


You Make Me Clumsy

by Wheeze_Freeze



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Phone Calls & Telephones, Rating May Change, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheeze_Freeze/pseuds/Wheeze_Freeze
Summary: “Someone’s got a little crush on you, Kou-chan! Don’t tell me you’ve been flirting with a barista of all people.”“Being a barista is a fine occupation."“I haven’t been flirting with anyone. Now give me that.” He stalked over, snatching the piece of paper from Oikawa.Sure enough, written in messy handwriting was a phone number. There was a small note underneath the numbers:Text this number some time, why don’tcha?--In which Suga gets a phone number from what he assumes is the barista downstairs, but turns out to be the guy he keeps running into on accident. Of course, his friends all push him to actually give texting someone a chance for once. It probably won't hurt him to put himself out there a little bit. Besides going to work every day as an adjunct professor, his days have been pretty boring.Daichi, on the other hand, is ready to murder his friends for putting him in this situation. Yes, the silver-haired man that has accidentally walked into him a couple of times is cute, but there are a lot of problems with just trying to dive into a friendship or relationship over the phone, as far as Daichi is concerned. And he really doesn't want to explain what he does for a living.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	You Make Me Clumsy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! This is my first ever published fic! I'm not sure how long this is going to turn out to be, but I hope you all enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> This is not really a coffee shop AU, despite a coffee shop being heavily featured. It's more just a college AU, so that's what it's been tagged as.
> 
> A lot of the fundamentals are not super original, such as the university merely being named Karusuno University. However, all of the material, dialogue, and growth is something I've come up with! If it feels a bit cliché I apologize, but I've always been one to cheese things up a bit. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys meddlesome friends, a mysterious Daichi, and cute text messages as much as I do because this fic is full of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! An 8K opener for this bad boy!
> 
> At the moment I honestly have no idea how long this fic will be. I have a handful of scenes that I've thought through, but it's piecing them all together that is the problem.
> 
> Either way, thanks for reading this c:

“Do I want to be late or do I want to be able to stay awake?” Sugawara mumbled to himself, peering into the little coffee shop.

Hesitantly he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, glancing over his shoulder to watch the elevators nearby piling full of people. Class started in less than five minutes. It was evident from the thrum of people shuffling about that they all felt the need to get to their classes, book bags thrown over shoulders, and taking off down different hallways. 

Suga really needed coffee this morning, though.

With a resigned sigh, Suga pulled the glass door of the coffee shop open, slipping inside the slightly warmer interior.

The coffee shop is small, only big enough to house a handful of chairs accompanied by circular wooden tables that already have students pouring over their textbooks despite how early it was. The bar was long and sleek, a cool grey that lined the entirety of the back wall. There were typical coffee shop aesthetic photos hanging on the wall along with a large digital clock that people walking by could easily read through the glass windows even if they didn’t plan on stopping in. The color scheme was muted browns and greys mixed with splashes of red and gold. A small display case with baked goods was off to the side, which Suga glanced at longingly as he stepped into line behind a woman with dark hair.

The coffee shop probably has some fancy name the university came up with to seem “hip” and “cool” when they implemented the coffee shop/study space a few years ago, but as far as he’s aware everyone just refers to it as _The Nest_.

Usually, there isn’t enough time in his morning to stop somewhere to grab a coffee. Between his notoriety for waiting until the last second to roll out of bed and traffic, it’s always been easier to switch his own coffee maker on. It brews while he showers and gets ready, filling the apartment up with that wonderful smell associated with waking up.

This morning he had really tested his ability to get ready in a handful of minutes. It had seemed like a good idea to snooze his alarm eight times when it had been bothering him, but now he regretted it. There had been no time to even shower, let alone let his coffee maker drip him out a mug. In the end, he had settled with furiously washing his face and brushing his teeth, throwing on whatever clothes his hands grabbed first before shrugging on his coat and scarf.

Traffic hadn’t been terrible. Probably because he was running about thirty minutes later than he did normally, but still.

The woman ordered something that had way too many adjectives in place and stepped to the side, letting Suga place his order while she waited.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile before stepping up to the counter.

“Hi, can I get uh…” Looking up at the menu, he was almost overwhelmed with the amount of information the little board had packed onto it. Would it be weird to just order a regular coffee? Or, since he was already going to be paying double it would probably be smarter to order something different. Hazel eyes ran over the words, trying to find something familiar as his lips settled into a delicate purse. 

Eventually, he saw something familiar, a triumphant, “Ah hah!” bursting from him just as the barista laughed.

Suga looked at the barista, confusion coloring his features. It wasn’t someone he knew. He had a mess of dark hair and a curling grin, eyes twinkling with mischief even though he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Something funny?” Suga asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Not really. Just never seen such an emotional journey from someone trying to buy a cup of coffee.” He let out another snicker, clearly finding this funny.

“Well, there’s a lot of options! How am I supposed to know what half of these words mean?”

“Every other person on campus does.” One thick eyebrow raised higher than the other, almost challenging Suga for a rebuttal.

“Uh huh. Well, can I get a Flat White? I have class in,” Suga looked at his watch, “Now.”

“A Flat White? That’s not really something newbies order. They typically go for the frappés or other things they’ve seen on TV.”

“My friend drinks them. I thought I’d give it a try.”

“Hmm, okay. Name?”

“Suga.”

“Just Suga?” the barista asked, the normal confused lit to his voice that people got when he told them his name for the first time.

“Yes. Just Suga,” he said with a bit of a sigh.

“Alright, Suga, your total is…”

Suga pulled out a maroon credit card to pay, handing it out between his index and middle fingers. The barista took it and swiped, offering Suga back his card along with a receipt. He gave a quick smile before stepping out of the way for the person behind him to order, as well.

It didn’t take very long for his drink to be finished, another barista coming forward with a loud, “Suga!” bursting from his lips. Suga winced but pointed to himself, stepping forward to take the outstretched drink.

“Thank you,” he said as he turned around, glad to see that the drink had a white lid covering the contents.

Suga didn’t stop to look back at the barista that had taken his order, instead heading straight for the exit. He still had to get up to the fourth floor and hope no one had really noticed how late he was, though. Which was asking for a lot considering Suga had all the handouts everyone would need for the day tucked safely into his side bag. Well, hopefully, everyone had just busied themselves with-

Thoughts preoccupied with his late start to the day, Suga didn’t totally register that the door to _The Nest_ was open. And not because someone was holding it open for him. He collided with someone just as they were trying to step into the establishment. Whoever he ran into was bigger than him, making him stumble and shoot his spare hand up to protect his coffee.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said quickly, sidestepping out of the way.

“You’re good,” a warm voice said, a bit of a chuckle lacing his words. “Your drink make it out okay?”

“Yeah.” Luckily his drink had made it out fine, no doubt because of the protective plastic lid. The insides were probably a little sloshed, so he hoped that didn’t really matter concerning a Flat White. “Again, sorry about that. I must have been spacing since…” Suga’s eyes flicked up to meet who he’d run into, and his words died in the air.

It had been a long time since Suga had been stunned into silence. The first time he remembered being stunned had been when he was a child at the aquarium for a field trip, in awe at the peacefully swimming multicolored sea creatures. The second, which pained him to remember, was when his friend Oikawa had successfully managed to get them free movie tickets their freshman year. It had involved a lot more palm movement than Suga had been prepared to witness, especially when Oikawa had tried to continue their conversation as if nothing had been happening.

This instance wasn’t anything like the first two. This was the first time Suga’s brain turned off just because he was looking at someone.

The man in front of him wasn’t even that tall, he could easily meet him at eye-level. But he was broad, all biceps and a thick neck. And his shoulders, God his shoulders. Dressed in a simple black sweater that was probably a size too small, clinging to his outline like it couldn’t get enough of him. Suga couldn’t get enough of him. His eyes were a dark pooling brown, drawing Suga in with a relaxed smile. Tan skin looked flawless, practically radiating the inner warmth Suga had heard in his voice. A head of dark hair finished the picture, cropped short but still sticking up in cute little spikes.

“Since?” the man prompted, a bit of a smirk playing at the side of his mouth.

It took Suga a second to process what he’d been trying to say. He felt like he’d been staring for forever. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bit of drool on his chin from his blatant ogling.

“Since…” _Come on brain, work for once._ “... I’m late. Oh my gosh I’m so late! I have to go, sorry again.”

Suga gave a quick bow, cheeks on fire from this horrendous situation before he dashed off towards the nearby staircase.

He was pretty sure he even heard a laugh as he bounded up the steps. A laugh that was suddenly cut off from what was probably someone stepping into the coffee shop.

* * *

The next day Suga got a call way before his alarm had even thought about waking him up.  
  
“Hello?” he drawled into the receiver, voice thick with sleep.  
  
“Kou-Chan~!” an easily recognizable and whiny voice called into his ear.  
  
“Oikawa? I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call before or after the hours of…”  
  
Oikawa cut him off with a quick, “I know! But I really need you to come up to the office. I have a presentation today and I want to make sure I’m ready. I’d call Asahi but he’d just tell me it was perfect. You’re the only one who will actually tell me if it’s shitty. And if you get here in the next thirty minutes then that means we have exactly…”  
  
“Okay! Okay. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday so I could have been up early?”

“Because I wasn’t nervous yesterday!”  
  
Suga blinked a few times, “You’re nervous?”  
  
There was a thick pause before Oikawa hurried to correct himself, “I’m not _nervous_. I don’t get nervous, Kou-Chan. I’d just like the presentation to go as smoothly as possible. And for that to happen I need you to come rip everything I’ve written apart.”  
  
“Of course.” He sat up, running a hand through his tousled silver locks, “Let me shower and make coffee before…”  
  
“No coffee. I expect you here in thirty minutes. So take the shortest shower of your life and hop in the car. Okay? Kay. See you soon~.”

Suga looked at his phone screen, the _Call Ended_ blinking up at him. It eventually drifted away, his home screen informing him it was just after 5:00 AM.  
  
Sometimes being a good friend meant remembering a birthday. Other times it meant saving a seat at an event. Maybe it even meant a warm hug when someone was having a bad day. To be a good friend to Oikawa Tooru, however, it meant being available for his every little whim regardless of the time.  
  
For a moment Suga thought about just leaning back against his pillow again.  
  
But he didn’t think about it long, just threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a sigh. He was Sugawara Koushi, after all, he never left his friends waiting in their times of need. And if Oikawa was actually nervous or not didn’t matter, because Suga would be there for him.  
  
So thirty minutes later, hair still damp from his rushed shower and eyes rimmed with dark circles, Suga stepped into the office he shared with Oikawa and Asahi.  
  
At Karasuno University there were all sorts of departments, colleges, professors, and people. Yet, for reasons that were unknown to him, his department had chosen to shove three adjunct professors with different focuses into the same room and call it a day.  
  
Although, the office they had been given had been that of a former dean, so it was plenty spacious and had large curtainless windows that let the early morning sunlight filter in. The walls were off-white, but at least they weren’t just concrete blocks stacked on one another as he’d seen in some of the other colleges. The floor was a dark blue, almost black, tiling but Oikawa had immediately gone and purchased an ornate red and cream-colored floor rug that covered most of the tiling. He personally liked the look of the tiling more. But, he appreciated the rug’s warmth when he secretly toed off his shoes underneath his desk to grade.  
  
On the left side of the room was Oikawa’s space, a single desk pushed against the wall and facing one of the windows. There were two bookshelves on either side, full of random books and photos that Oikawa had brought in. No doubt, this had been the previous dean’s set-up. It easily looked out over the campus, just asking whoever sat down to be inspired by the multitude of students that were on the grounds each day. And, whoever sat down, could easily spin around in the high-back leather chair to greet guests. Or, they could usher them to sit in the plush black chairs facing each other in the corner, a small end table between them. A perfect spot to read or discuss matters while still feeling at ease. 

It was a great set-up, really. For Oikawa, that is.  
  
On the right side of the room were two smaller desks pushed up to face each other. There, Suga and Asahi worked. Two dinghy boot-up computers covered most of their desk space, rarely used since they both just typically brought in their laptops. Asahi’s desk was practically spilling with books, too tall towers leaning against each other and threatening to topple over onto Suga’s things at a moment's notice. Suga’s desk wasn’t much better, really, covered in piles of papers and wayward hardbacks, but it was better. Marginally. At least he had enough space to drop his satchel down without feeling the need to hover in case an avalanche decided to start tumbling down.

“Kou-Chan~!” Oikawa called, spinning around in his desk chair to face Suga. “You’re three minutes late, you know.”  
  
“You’re lucky I’m here, at all,” he grumbled, coming to stand behind Oikawa to glance at his computer screen. “Now tell me what you’re having trouble with.”  
  
“I’m not having trouble with anything. I just need you to use that writing degree to tell me if everything makes sense.”  
  
“You know Asahi is better at practical grammar than I am.” But Suga leaned over his friend’s shoulder anyway, taking control of the computer mouse.  
  
“And I plan to ask him to give a final look over when he gets in. But _you_ will tell me where the content doesn’t make sense. You make sure other people can understand it, Asahi makes sure the nit-picky types will be pleased, and I just have to show up with my charming face and the deal is sealed.”  
  
“Uh-huh. What a fine-tuned machine we three are.”  
  
“Exactly! I’m glad you’re finally starting to understand our roles in life, Kou.”  
  
Suga sighed, shaking his head slightly. A curl of a smile played at the edges of his mouth, but he tried not to let Oikawa see it. He’d always liked how easily he and his friends worked together, found it a welcome routine as he helped Oikawa with his projects, or talked at length with Asahi over the various subjects they were both interested in. It had been surprising, but not unwanted, when they’d all found out they’d be on a trial period together at the university they had all graduated from. Karasuno had been more than accommodating to hire them all, testing the waters to see if they wanted to hire them as full-time staff. For another three semesters, they’d each teach one class. Then, when time was up, they’d see if they could teach full time.  
  
Looking over the first slide of Oikawa’s presentation, it seemed he had something scheduled with his department chair. While the three of them all fell under the same branch in the Humanities, they all had their own departments to answer to. Oikawa was heavily involved in political science, but he’d also minored in philosophy. Asahi, having always been interested in traveling and the world as a whole taught linguistics but hoped to upgrade to world literature at some point. Suga had always felt like the plainest with his simple literature arts degree, but it allowed him a wide berth of material he could cover. Well, he had actually double majored with literature arts and writing, which Oikawa liked to point out, but really that just meant he could properly format a memo without being told how.

“You have quarterly evaluations?” he guessed, eyes still roaming over the slide.  
  
“Yes. But it’s only because my advisor is old as dirt and has decided she hates my guts. I swear, I was nothing but polite when we met and all she does is bitch about everything I do.”  
  
“ _Did_ you do something to piss her off?”  
  
“Of course not.” Oikawa flicked his perfectly styled chestnut bangs out of his face, “I merely told her that the plum-colored lipstick she had on was doing her no favors on her lips or on her teeth.”

Suga started to laugh, shaking as his head dipped. It was kind of a delirious laugh. The kind that stems from being awake at 5:40 in the morning without caffeine, too little sleep, and a head full of wayward thoughts. Immediately he conjured up the image of a ridiculously short woman with a poof of gray hair, a smear of lipstick across her features and flashing every time she talked. Oikawa had never been one to hold back, he’d probably offended her before he’d even gotten a proper greeting out.  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” he said, giggles still bursting from his lips. “You’re never going to actually get hired.”  
  
“Don’t! You have to believe in me, Kou-Chan! I can conquer some old lady with poor fashion taste and a penchant to hold grudges.”  
  
“Asahi and I will mourn you when you’re gone.”  
  
“I’m not _dying!_ And I’m going to get a full-time position. There’s no way they wouldn’t-”  
  
“You contradict yourself, here,” he said, pointing towards the screen and pulling Oikawa’s attention back on track.  
  
“...Explain,” Oikawa said simply, ready to tear his presentation apart.  
  
For the next hour or so Suga meticulously went through the presentation, pointing out certain phrases or words every so often that he thought should be changed. Every time, in typical Oikawa fashion, the brunette tried to argue that how he’d already written it made more sense than what Suga was proposing. And every time Suga asked, “Do you want my help or not?”, which only got him dirty looks sent his way. Obviously, Oikawa wanted his help, but he wanted Suga to be _helpful_ and explain the changes in question. Suga didn’t really feel like explaining every little thing to Oikawa, knowing he’d just change it if he pressed hard enough, but he also wanted his friend to understand. He knew how frustrating it was to be told to change something without any explanation.

Asahi meandered into the office just before seven, long hair tied up into a tight bun on his head and sporting a tan trench coat that brushed against the back of his knees. A cup of coffee with _The Nest’s_ logo was in one hand and the other was secured around his laptop case.  
  
“Oh, morning, guys,” Asahi offered, pausing just a moment in the doorway before heading over to his desk.  
  
Typically, on Wednesdays, Asahi had the office to himself. Suga didn’t teach and only needed to come in if he had a meeting scheduled or felt too behind on work to stick around his apartment. Oikawa did teach on Wednesdays, but, like he was going to be later today, he was often swamped with things to do with his department. Apparently, the political science department was much keener on fostering communication between their faculty than the linguistics or literature teams.

“Morning, Mane-Chan,” Oikawa chirped, fingers too busy flying across his keyboard to properly turn around.  
  
“Good morning, Asahi,” Suga offered, stifling a yawn as he made his way over to their shared space and sat heavily in his desk chair.  
  
“Something going on?”  
  
“Just Oikawa dragging me up here before the building was even properly open to rewrite something for him. You know, the usual.”  
  
Asahi’s dark eyes flicked over to Oikawa on the other side of the room, “You need me to look over it, as well?”  
  
“Mhmm. Just give me a minute to fix some things.”  
  
“Course,” Asahi said with a small nod, bringing his coffee cup to his lips.  
  
Suga propped his elbow up on his desk, leaning his cheek heavily into his open palm. Asahi shot him a concerned look over his cup, eyebrows pinching together slightly. He could only guess how bad he looked right now, hair air-dried in awkward directions and pale skin doing no favors to help mask the dark circles he’d seen this morning. Sure, he was tired, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now. Besides maybe going to get a cup of coffee.  
  
“Oh, I forgot to mention, but I ordered a Flat White from downstairs yesterday.” 

“Yeah?” Asahi put the drink in question down on his desk, “Any good?”  
  
“You know, you’ve been drinking those for years now and I never even thought to try it. But, yeah, it was good. It wasn’t as sweet as I thought it’d be. Not like those towers of whipped cream that Oikawa drinks.”  
  
“They’re good and you’re just mean about it. Besides, I mainly get their milk bread anyway,” Oikawa piped up, back still towards them.  
  
Suga didn’t dignify Oikawa with a response, merely rolling his eyes at the man’s childish callouts. Oikawa called him mean on a daily basis, usually accompanied by his signature pout. Asahi let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly as a smile took over his features. At some point, he had finally picked up that Suga and Oikawa just liked to playfully jab at each other, instead of always thinking they were on the brink of real friendship ending fights. The man’s neverending worry was endearing, but it was nice to see that he could now laugh at them.

“I would have brought you one if I knew you liked them. Sorry, Suga,” Asahi said, grin faltering a bit with his sudden apology.  
  
Suga waved the hand not propping his head up dismissively, “Don’t apologize for things you didn’t know anything about, Asahi. Especially, if it concerns an imaginary cup of coffee I didn’t even ask you to get me. What does Noya always say?”  
  
“Right, right,” Asahi said, nodding a bit as he no doubt thought about how his boyfriend would be scolding him, as well. “Do you want me to go get you one, though? It’s no trouble. The line won’t be long until it gets closer to class time.”  
  
A cup of coffee did sound amazing. But he didn’t want Asahi to have to go all the way back downstairs just for him. And, if he was being honest, if he didn’t do something besides sit somewhere he was going to fall asleep at his desk.

“No, but thank you, Asahi. I think I’ll go get one myself, actually. I need to stretch my legs after being cooped up here with Oikawa all morning.” He stood, stretching his arms out in front of him before digging in his discarded coat pocket for his wallet. “Do either of you want anything?”  
  
“Oh, get me a vanilla cold brew with almond milk and cinnamon. If they have baked goods out get me something smothered in chocolate. Wait, no, I shouldn’t. Get me something smothered in chocolate _after_ I present.”  
  
Suga sent an incredulous look at Oikawa’s back, causing Asahi to chuckle once again while saying, “I’m good, thanks.”  
  
“Not even a _please._ Completely ungrateful,” he mumbled only to have Oikawa’s voice drown him out with an excited, “Mane-Chan~! I’m ready for your assistance!”  
  
Coffee. He really needed coffee if he was going to have to be in a small room with Oikawa any longer today.  
  
Suga rubbed at his neck as he stepped out of the room, following the small hallway of offices to the floor’s lobby. There were a few oddly shaped, orange, backless seats scrunched together that often had students waiting before meeting a professor. They were empty at the moment, the whole floor blissfully quiet for the time being. In due time other faculty members and students would be pilfering out of the respective offices and classes on the floor.  
  
The elevator pinged as he hit the call button, too tired to take the stairs on the other side of the lobby. It was empty, and he hit the first-floor button before stepping back to lean against the railing.  
  
The building had four floors in total, each home to a different department. The first floor doubled as a student space, hence the inclusion of _The Nest_ , and a location for language studies. The second floor was Oikawa’s domain, the third Asahi’s, and the fourth was where Suga taught. Conveniently for him, their office was also on the fourth floor. Inconvenient, however, when he wanted to do a random coffee run.  
  
Even when Suga had been a student he hadn’t frequented _The Nest_ or other coffee shops often. Most of his peers had been head-over-heels in love with the aesthetic, constantly wanting to try new things and hang out in their lounges long enough to walk away smelling like a tin of instant coffee. It wasn’t like Suga disliked coffee, he was struggling without his normal cup, after all. It was just so expensive to foster a coffee habit that wasn't based solely on having your own coffee maker.  
  
Oikawa liked to say he was a little uptight. Suga simply liked to spend his money wisely, he had a budget for a reason.  
  
Splurging two days in a row for some coffee from the shop on the lowest floor of the building he worked in was making his wallet burn a hole in his pants’ pocket.  
  
_It’s okay to treat yourself every once in a while,_ he rationalized. He’d just have to work the price into his allotted eating out money for the week. Oikawa could live without them going out for drinks on Friday, considering Suga was also buying him coffee today as well. _  
_ _  
_ Absent-mindedly he ran a hand down his cream-colored sweater, getting rid of the invisible dust as he waited for the elevator to reopen. It wasn’t his favorite top, it wrinkled easily, but it was warm. The early November air had quickly turned biting compared to the cool mornings of September and October. Plus, whoever was in charge of the heating in the building seemed to have a particular aversion to turning it on at all. So, for the next couple of months, it would be thick sweaters and heavy coats for everyone.

His point was proven as the elevator doors slid open, a blast of cold air tousling his hair. Immediately he hopped out of the elevator, pace brisk as he sought the warmth from the coffee shop. The first floor was always the coldest, the large entryway doors constantly opening and closing from the mass of people coming into the building all hours of the day. When it rained it was absolutely horrid. Suga had almost fallen more times than he could count on all the water that accidentally got tracked in.  
  
A sigh escaped him as he pulled open the door to _The Nest,_ a jingle signaling his arrival. Whoever controlled the heat in here, however, knew what they were doing.  
  
There were a few people dotting the space, but not nearly as many as there had been yesterday. The line was empty, the workers behind the counter turned around to speak with one another about something.  
  
Suga recognized the barista that had taken his order yesterday as he stepped up to the bar. His hair was just as disheveled, falling slightly into one of his eyes as he turned to meet Suga’s gaze.  
  
Suga couldn’t help but think he’d look better if he brushed his hair back some as he stalked forward, curled grin lighting up his features.

“The coffee was good enough that you’re coming back for more?” There was a teasing lit in his voice, causing Suga to quirk a brow.  
  
“Isn’t that the point of a coffee shop? To sell coffee to people that are willing to keep coming back?”  
  
“Hmm, I suppose. You just didn’t pin me as the type to come back the very next day. But, judging by those circles under your eyes I figure you’d be willing to get coffee from anywhere right about now.”  
  
He frowned, fingers coming up to brush underneath one of his eyes. Kinda rude to point out someone looked tired if you asked him. He was just about to tell the barista so, too, when he pointed at himself, “I get to point out when people look like shit because I always look like this. Now, what can I get you?”  
  
It was true that the barista’s eyes were practically rimmed entirely with purple. His eyes looked incredibly heavy, dark lashes licking his cheeks every time his goldish hued eyes closed. Coupled with his perpetual bedhead, it did give off the impression that the man had just rolled out of bed after getting little more than a catnap in. It would be easier to just let his comment slide anyway. Suga didn’t really want to chide a barista when it wasn’t his place.  
  
“Can I get a Flat White and a…” his nose scrunched up as he took a second to remember what Oikawa wanted, “a vanilla cold brew with almond milk and cinnamon.” Oikawa could come down later for his own chocolate bread or whatever it was he was in the mood for.

The barista’s eyebrows shot up, “Didn’t expect you to upgrade to something so pretentious so soon.”  
  
“It’s for my friend.” This barista sure liked to chit-chat.  
  
“I thought your friend drank Flat Whites?”  
  
“I have more than one friend, actually.” He dug in his pocket for his wallet, handing out his credit card with a final, “Here.”  
  
“Sure.” He took the card. “Suga for the name, again?”  
  
“Yes, thank you.”  
  
Since he was the only person waiting on an order it came out quickly, two cups that another barista brought out in what felt like record time. Suga rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s drink, three perfectly stacked liquids visible through a clear cup with a much too large straw stuck into the top. The ice inside clinked together as he picked it up, a stark contrast to the warmth of his own drink pulsing through his other hand.

“You need a drink holder, or anything?” The overly nosey barista asked, head popping up as he watched Suga test the weight of the drinks in his hands.  
  
“No, it’s only two drinks. Thank you, I’ll be going no-” Suga took a step backward, still facing the barista but attempting to make his retreat.  
  
Much like yesterday, he felt himself run into someone. Only this time a pair of steading hands came up to enclose around his shoulders. An unattractive “ah!” left his mouth as he felt his head tip back, hair brushing along the chin of someone else. The drinks in his hands sloshed noisily, but he didn’t let them go. If he were to let them go then he’d no doubt end up covering himself and the floor with the contents.

“You okay?” a warm voice rumbled near his ear, concern coloring his words.  
  
Suga took a moment to think, blinking wildly for a second before tipping his head further back to look at his savior. For a split second, he had expected Asahi to have been the one to randomly catch him. But Asahi was much taller than who was currently holding him up. And Oikawa would have let him fall. Probably would have laughed too, until he noticed that his drink wouldn’t be making its way to him. But it wasn’t either of his friends that he’d bumped into.  
  
His heart beat a little faster as he looked up at the man he’d run into yesterday. Only this time he’d done so by walking backwards.  
  
Had he always been this clumsy?  
  
“Oh! I’m sorry!” he nearly shouted, rushing forward so his head was no longer resting on a stranger’s chest. “I wasn’t paying attention, I should have looked before I started trying to back up.”  
  
“You’re good,” he said. The same thing he’d said yesterday when Suga had been in this same horribly embarrassing predicament.  
  
“Right. Thank you. I’m not sure my drinks would have made it if you hadn’t grabbed me.”  
  
“I would have bought you replacements if you’d dropped them. And I would have made him,” he jerked his head towards the dark-haired barista that was leaning against the bar, gold eyes intent on them, “Clean up the mess.”  
  
“Oh, well, you wouldn’t have needed to do that. It was my fault for running into you, really.”  
  
“But still-” the man started to argue, only to be cut off with a sharp, “Oi!”  
  
Suga turned to see the barista holding up a small paper bag, jingling the contents around. “Here, on the house. I should have told you there was a weirdo standing behind you. My bad.”  
  
He didn’t look all that sorry.  
  
“Weirdo? You wanna run that by me again?”  
  
“Really, this was my fault. I don’t need to-”  
  
“Come on,” the barista said, shaking the bag once more. “The morning rush will be here soon so just come take this. Give it to your friend with the cold brew if you really don’t want it.”  
  
Suga wanted to refuse some more, really he did, but he wanted to escape more. Two days in a row he had run into the same guy, both times turning into an overly apologetic mess that could barely work up the courage to look at him in his soft brown eyes. So, with a small nod, he strode forward and took the bag, gripping it loosely along with his drink.  
  
“Um, thanks again,” he offered, eyes flicking over to his unfortunate bumping partner. 

“I’m the one that just gave you something for free!” a voice called after him as exited the shop.  
  
A small smile was on his face the whole elevator ride. It stayed on his face even when he precariously opened the door to the office, striding forward to set his spoils down on Oikawa’s desk.  
  
Asahi had a chair pulled up beside Oikawa now, eyes scanning along the presentation in a similar manner that Suga had earlier. Oikawa thanked him for his drink and treat, which Suga only nodded at. His mind was preoccupied with the encounter he’d just been a part of, thinking back on a warm voice and steading hands.  
  
“Wha?” Oikawa practically screeched as he picked up the paper bag on his desk. Suga hadn’t even looked inside. Oikawa would have been jealous if he brought food up for only himself, anyway.

“You got someone’s _phone number_ and didn’t come up here to immediately tell me? What’s the meaning of this?” Oikawa reached into the bag, waving a discarded receipt in the air.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Someone’s got a little crush on you, Kou-chan! Don’t tell me you’ve been flirting with a barista of all people.”  
  
“Being a barista is a fine occupation,” Asahi quietly said.  
  
“I haven’t been _flirting_ with anyone. Now give me that.” He stalked over, snatching the piece of paper from Oikawa’s floundering hand.  
  
Sure enough, written in messy handwriting was a phone number. There was a small note underneath the numbers:  
  
_Text this number some time, why don’tcha?_

* * *

Daichi couldn't help but watch the retreating form of the silver-haired man that had run into him. Not once even, but twice now. Not that he was complaining. In fact, his head had been a mess of hazel eyes, soft smiles, and rushed apologies all day yesterday. Today probably would be much of the same now that he had cute squeaks of surprise and the feeling of slim shoulders to think about.  
  
Not that he should be thinking so much about a stranger that had run into him twice now, but he couldn’t help it.  
  
The man looked like a literal angel.  
  
“Hey, fuckwit.”  
  
Daichi turned to glare at his so-called friend. He had been nothing but annoying over this whole situation. Teasing Daichi’s overthinking then bragging to be the only one to actually have had a conversation with the man.  
  
Of course, Daichi had all but demanded to know the silver-haired angel’s name yesterday morning after he’d run away with his cup of coffee clutched in his hand. Kuroo had asked for payment for such sensitive information, fingers spread open as if he expected Daichi to unfurl a wad of cash into his palm. All Kuroo had gotten was a quick slap on the wrist and a laugh at his expense as his dumb face twitched in pain.

In the end, Kuroo had refused to tell him and Daichi had refused to pay him.  
  
“Kuroo, I’m not above bodily harm just because you’re on the clock right now.”  
  
“Hmm, fine. Then I won’t explain to you how much of a great friend I am.”  
  
“What are you talking about now?” he asked, coming to lean alongside the counter as he watched his friend move some things around in order to prepare for the incoming rush.  
  
“Oh, nothing. Just that I gave Mr. Angel your number just now.”  
  
“You _what?_ ”  
  
Daichi was used to his friends doing wild things without his permission. There was that time Bokuto tried to flood their freshman dorm so they could have a slip-n-slide in the winter. Or, even much more recently, when Kuroo shamelessly pushed him down during an impromptu race they had between their apartment buildings. Hell, even Iwaizumi got a wild hair about him sometimes and said some of the most outlandish things, always urging Daichi to “wait out” their other friends’ ridiculous stunts just so he could see how hurt one of them would get.  
  
And it wasn’t like Kuroo hadn’t given all of their numbers out multiple times before, but those had mainly been jokes at his friends’ expense. This felt like a betrayal.  
  
“Why would you do that?” he asked, voice tight. “If anything he’d want your number. You’re the one he’s actually talked to.”  
  
Kuroo shook his head, dark hair flopping around, “Nah. He’s not interested in me in the slightest. Which is fine, since he’s not really my type either. I like them shorter and…” he paused, his eyes scanned the room as if he was looking for someone, “Cuter. Plus, he’s exactly your type. Smart, pretty, and probably could make you cry in two seconds flat if he tried.”

Daichi immediately thought of their mutual friend that was in need of a dye job. Kuroo’s blatant crush on his childhood friend would never not be something Daichi urged the other man to just go for, despite the quick protests Kuroo always came up with. That didn’t mean Kuroo had the right to just be shoving his number into the orders of anyone he thought was Daichi’s type.

“Did he ask for my number?” Daichi asked, knowing the answer to the question.  
  
“Well, no. You were right here he could have just asked if-”  
  
“Exactly! Now he’s going to think I’m some creep that got my friend to give out my number.”  
  
Kuroo frowned. “I mean, I didn’t explicitly say it was your number if you wanted to play dumb. I mean, you are dumb and didn’t know I was going to do it anyway.”  
  
“That makes it better? Now, what’s going to happen when he texts that number expecting to talk to you?”  
  
Kuroo’s mouth opened, then closed. Clearly, he was just now working the idea through that thick head of his. “But he won’t,” he eventually said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s smart. He’ll put two and two together.”  
  
“Doubtful when he’s trying to understand something someone as brain-dead as you came up with.”  
  
“Watch it or I’ll have Bokuto follow you around making obscene noises. He’s off today and you know he’s more than willing to do anything to save himself from the boredom of his own bedroom.”  
  
Daichi sighed, knowing full well Kuroo was right. 

“Just watch, Daichi. You’ll be thanking me soon enough.”

* * *

As Daichi fully expected, he was not on his way to thanking his meddlesome friend.

It was even worse when they met up with Bokuto later, his too loud friend singing praise towards Kuroo and his match-maker abilities. That had earned him a swift punch in the shoulder, his booming screech echoing throughout the gym they’d met up at. But even with the physical deterrent Bokuto kept asking questions about the situation that Kuroo was purposely elusive about.

Not that there _was_ a situation other than Kuroo’s premeditated murder in the works.  
  
At dinner, Daichi had practically jumped out of his seat when he got a random text he hadn’t been expecting. Iwaizumi laughed harder than he should have at Daichi’s shocked then disappointed face as he read over a text from his mother. She was just making sure he still planned to stop by for dinner during the weekend, needing to know what he wanted her to make and when he’d be there and everything else an over-planner mother needed to know.  
  
Daichi answered her text while ignoring Iwaizumi’s cackling at his eagerness.

By the next morning, all eagerness he had _possibly_ felt the day before had been squashed. 

There was not going to be a text lighting up his screen anytime soon from some stranger Kuroo had given his number out to. Which was a good thing, actually. It would have been beyond awkward to explain the situation, to inform the person trying to text him that he wasn’t actually the guy who had given out the number. That he was just someone random, that they had accidently bumped into each other a couple times now. It wasn’t even like that was something people remembered, the faces or quick apologies that came from accidentally running into someone.

Plus, regardless of what Kuroo said, the only way he was going to get a text was if the person in question was interested in _Kuroo_. Since that’s typically what it meant to text the number given out to someone.  
  
The best Daichi could hope for was that the number hadn’t been seen at all. Kuroo scribbling the number on someone’s old receipt and throwing it into a bag with some cinnamon twists hadn’t been his smartest move. The receipt could have been easily discarded as trash or looked over, not even turned around to see the sloppy message.  
  
As long as the message hadn’t been seen then Daichi could go back to being blissfully unaware of anything. Kuroo could take the man’s coffee orders in the morning, Daichi would make sure to not stand so close to people trying to get their coffees, and everything would be fine. He would pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened and work on forgiving Kuroo for almost purposefully putting him in an awkward situation.

Then maybe he could work up the courage to actually have a proper conversation with the man the next time he saw him.  
  
Or not.  
  
Most mornings Daichi stopped by _The Nest_ to bother Kuroo and get coffee. Despite the building being quite a bit out of the way from the volleyball team’s gym, it had become his routine. He parked outside within the rest of the faculty parking, stopped inside for a bit, then walked for tenish minutes until he made it to the gym. It was good exercise and usually a peaceful walk amongst the early morning rays, but damn was it getting cold. Even the short jaunt from his car to inside the building was enough to make the tips of his ears turn red and for him to fold his arms over his chest to try to keep some warmth in.

He passed by the elevators without glancing at them, only heard them close as he walked towards the glass door of the familiar coffee shop.  
  
“Dude!” Kuroo yelled as soon as he entered, pointing towards him, “You just missed him! He’s probably still getting into the elevator if you wanted to chase after him.”  
  
“Why would I ever do that?”  
  
“Because you spent the night texting about how into each other you are and how you want to grow old together?” Kuroo’s voice was teasing, of course, but it was also kind of stupidly hopeful.  
  
“I told you he wasn’t going to text me, and he didn’t. Wouldn’t he have said something to _you_ if he’d tried texting?”  
  
Kuroo wrinkled his nose. “I guess. He seemed fine this morning, though. Maybe a little snappy.”  
  
“Anyone that has to deal with you this early in the morning is bound to be a little snappy.”  
  
“Hmm, no. I think his friend is bugging him about something.”  
  
“The Flat White one or the cold brew one?” he asked before he could think better of it. There was no reason for Daichi to even know that the man had two distinctive friends, it was just that Kuroo sure did like to blab on and on about everything.

“Oh, definitely the cold brew one. I bet they have one of those relationships where the friend is always pushing him to do stuff he wouldn’t do on his own.”

“And you gleaned all that from a handful of conversations? You who would have failed half the courses you enrolled in if Kenma didn’t pity you so much?”  
  
“What can I say,” Kuroo’s signature curling grin spread across his face. “I’m perceptive.”

“Right. Spell perceptive, then.”

Daichi felt a soft buzz in the pocket of his jeans as Kuroo started an argument that people don’t need to know how to spell things to know what they meant. A compelling argument, really, but one Daichi didn’t really care about listening to. A text this early in the morning usually meant there had been a schedule change, something that typically threw his whole day into a mess of rearrangement. If people would just stick to the schedules they gave him he wouldn’t have a problem. Rationally, he knew he dealt with a lot of people every day all doing a multitude of different things, but still. They picked a time, he stuck to it, and so should they.  
  
So, when he pulled out his phone and saw a message from an unknown phone number, he frowned. Anyone that needed to get a hold of him this early would already be programmed in his phone. Plus, everyone knew that his number wasn’t just something you gave out. That didn’t mean people didn’t, exhibit A being Kuroo Tetsurou, but it never ceased to piss him off.

His eyes widened slightly in disbelief as he read the message. Then read it again just to make sure he hadn’t made anything up.

“...is it an S or a C? Just tell me that. Fuck, where’s Bokuto when I need him? You’re making me look like the stupid one when we _all_ know Bo takes the cake on that one. I’ve seen that kid eat-”  
  
“He texted,” Daichi breathed.

“Who? Bo? I didn't think he could function this early.”  
  
“No, _him_ .”  
  
Kuroo understood, immediately making a “gimme” motion with his hand towards Daichi’s phone.  
  
Daichi wordlessly handed his phone over, standing over the counter as Kuroo read so he could read it for a third time.  
  
> _Unknown Number 7:32 AM_ _  
_ _I’m just going to be upfront and say I had no intention to message this number, at all, but I’m being bribed. My friend promised to buy everyone dinner tomorrow night if I “grew a pair and tried texting someone back for once.” There’s five of us going, and I much rather dent his bank account than try to feed into his taunts. So, yeah. Oh, and drinks. He’s buying everyone drinks._

Another message followed the first one, Kuroo scrolled down so they could both read it.

> _Unknown Number 7:34 AM  
__He said it only counts if you text me back, though. So, um, good morning?_


End file.
